


The Hunted

by Darkwalk



Series: Songs of the Spark [1]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Hurt/Comfort, Implied dark thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwalk/pseuds/Darkwalk
Summary: Sometimes when you push people, they snap and a monster comes out.





	The Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> When I listen to a song, a little movie will often pop into my head and play. So I'm writing out a few of them.
> 
> Snow Ghosts- The Hunted (Apocalypse Version)

He dashed forward, footsteps crunching through the snow too loud, harsh vents even louder. Pine trees blurred past as he struggled up the slope. Crunch and crash. Frigid metal gave pathetic squeals of defiance for being forced to move in the cold. Frost flowers covered every bit of exposed plating and were starting to creep into the energon lines beneath.

Raucous laughs behind. They knew they were going to catch him and he knew it too.

Bluestreak struggled ahead, too persistent to give up. The thought hardly even occurred to him in such a panicked state. Fear nipped at his heels even as he lunged over a rot-blackened log and landed harshly. The sharp scent of ice and wet trees stung him. High above his helm, dark branches twined to form cover that confused his sense of direction and hide the sky from view. All he knew was that he was heading up the mountain and away from everyone else.

Run run run.

((You wander through the willows

In the forest you have found))

They were going to catch him. He didn't want to be caught. All he could think about was escape. Faster. Run faster.

A hidden hole nearly took the gray and red mech down, doorwings flaring to help him balance. It cost him several seconds and the howling voices of the Decepticons were too close. They were so close. Legs pumping, he was off again.

((Trying to hide your footprints in the ground

It's not so wise, if you try to run

It's not so wise, you know I've won,

You know I've won))

The mountain side seemed to be against him every step of the way. He was too far up from the others, isolated and cut off from the battle where he'd been sniping the enemy. Yells behind spurred him on even as the open wounds and gashes on his frame screamed at him to stop. Bluestreak was so tired but couldn't quite. He had to keep going.

He didn't want to be caught. In his mind, caught meant dead. Maybe they wouldn't really kill him right away but that doesn't occur to people when they are prey. Prey runs because running is the only escape.

Opening into a clearing, the trees pulled away and bowed to the overcast sky. Everything was in dulled shades; snow, bark, clouds, stones. The dark maroon on his armor was faded. Even the sharp needles on the pines were almost a clear silver with ice. Only the energon leaking from his body seemed to have any color. Staining pink had no place here.

He was weary. It was cold.

Bluestreak lurched, trying to move past the massive gray boulders that rose up above his shoulders in the clearing. The sky was so open, bearing down upon him. It was too open here. Fliers could get him. Even as he thought this, his legs gave out under the strain and he collapsed onto his knees. Crystallized water crunched under his weight.

With his engine whining at the abuse, the mech swayed and reached his servos out to steady himself. There was too much exhaustion to stand. But the fear still swirled beneath the surface, wiping away any clear thoughts.

A shout as he was spotted. Blue didn't like that voice. The terror spiked, jabbing his insides.

((And you'll smile, on your knees

The hunter becomes...))

The world simplified to the clearing, the Cons behind him that were about to kill, and Bluestreak himself. Vents wheezed roughly. Doorwings shivered from the cold. Something dark and sharp slithered over the young Praxian's mind. Something terrifying that swallowed the fear. Panic gave way to a painful burning in his spark. Everything narrowed to the beings around him.

They circled, rough excited words as they thought they'd won.

((The hunter becomes... the hunted

The hunter becomes the hunted))

Scared sky colored optics paled to empty silver white and turned to look up. The shaking stopped as Bluestreak's face fell blank. The other mechs didn't realize their skittish rabbit was gone.

((The hunter becomes the hunted

The hunter becomes the hunted

The hunter becomes the hunted

The hunter becomes...))

Silence as the world paused, crystal clarity before the storm struck.

Bluestreak snapped. In a blur of scratched gray and sharp claws, the mech lunged at the one closest to him. With no warning, the Con didn't have enough time to block before the sniper's sharpened digits were slicing open his throat.

((Bury it... bury it all

Bury it... bury it all))

His scream was cut off. The Autobot's weight shoved him backward onto the covered ground and held him as digits stabbed into his shocked red optics and rendered him blind. Muffled shouting from the other two who hadn't expected the attack. Rabbits didn't turn into wolves after all.

((Bury it... bury it all

Bury it... bury it all))

A roar. When one of the mechs grabbed at a doorwing, the Praxian whirled on him and started tearing. A curved blade appeared in one hand, the other digging into wires and cables. Quick movements, stabbing and mauling, as energon quickly stained the ground. Noise, too loud, pain-filled wails, the howl of a victorious hunter attacking it's quarry.

Madness as cold as ice and as harsh as winter ripped into the unwary mechs and tore them apart.

((Bury it... bury it all))

Denta snapped and shrieks echoed through the rock hills. The towering forest bore witness to the slaughter as Bluestreak shredded plating under his servos. Eventually the struggle stopped and a hush slipped over the clearing like fog.

Most of the pristine glittering snow was now disturbed by footprints and blood. Here and there bits of shredded armor with shorn edges rested in scattered pieces. The crumpled and distorted forms of metal bodies lay tossed aside like forgotten toys as soon as they stopped moving. Bluestreak remained crouched in the snow drifts for several long moments before he knelt, heat puffing from his vents to make clouds in the air. Wild colorless optics surveyed the area without emotion.

((The hunter becomes the hunted

The hunter becomes the hunted))

When the other Autobots arrived, afraid they were too late, they found the usually talkative mech silently sitting hip-deep in the snowfall. Splatters of blood covered his frame, his servos and his arms. The mangled remains told them everything they needed to know.

"Blue..." Whispered Prowl softly, edging closer through the debris and doorwings lowered non-threateningly. The others stayed back, still and quiet. Weapons lowered as it was obvious they weren't needed. All faces turned toward the sniper on the ground.

A chevroned helm slowly rotated to glance at Prowl. Azure optics wide with fear and regret bore into the others. Bluestreak looked back down at shaking servos, claws stained with energon.

"I didn't mean to."

((The hunter becomes the hunted))


End file.
